Making Ponyville a Better Place
Making Ponyville a Better Place
I was disgusted with the hag's wrinkled ugliness and her sweat-slick sickly body. She was hollering shrill curses at her grandson, who was carrying her on his back and looking even redder than usual. Doubtless Big Mac was ashamed to be seen with her. He said she had fallen and couldn't get up. I plastered a smile on my face and sweetened my voice and told him she would be okay, but I hated her with a special hatred and knew I had to take action.
Doctor Horse told me to give her painkillers. She screeched that she had arthritis and that ponies her age were living barometers, not cripples, and her blasted thick-headed colt of a grandson needed to let her be. Her voice sounded like a rusty hinge, and my hooves shook with the impulse to ram her muzzle into a blender. I left, ostensibly to get the X-ray machine ready, but really because she sickened me.
From the way she wailed when Big Mac moved her onto the imaging table, I knew she had fractured her hip. I took the X-ray and left her, whimpering and moaning, with her henpecked grandson, who might have been handsome in a rustic way if he hadn't been too pathetic to manage the hag.
The hag's granddaughters arrived to hear Doctor Horse say that her hip needed surgery, but the earliest available time was tomorrow. Applejack agreed with Big Mac that she should stay in the hospital overnight. Apple Bloom looked sad, and I wanted to scoop her into my arms, snuggle her, and assure her that everything would be okay because she wouldn't have to endure her grandmother much longer. I had a plan, fully formed and refined by years of experience, and I would take care of her. She was part of my life's work.
For hours, I was in a frenzy of anticipation. I fussed over the hag like a debutante fussing over her evening gown the morning of the Grand Galloping Gala. Her howls of indignation thrilled me. After each protest, I turned to the family and shrugged as if to say, "Ah, old folks!" The Apple family would remember me and know that I had done everything I could. Pearly Stitch's family had thought I did a fine job, too, and Chelsea Porcelain's family had even sent me a Hearth's Warming Eve card. Everypony knew I made Ponyville a better place.
When I had tended to the hag so thoroughly that her family began to think I would smother her, I excused myself to check on the pediatric ward even though I knew I had nothing to do there. A filly said, "Look! Nurse Redheart is here!" and suddenly they were all clamoring for my attention with joyous shouts and laughter. I toured the ward like a pegasus gliding through the sunny spring air. I delivered hugs to all the foals, and their pure hearts made my soul sing! I loved them and wanted to guard them forever.
When evening came, I advised the Apple family to go home and rest. I had earned Applejack and Big Mac's trust, and innocent Apple Bloom was meek and obedient. The hag muttered imprecations against anypony whose name her feeble mind could remember. She was weak, infirm, decrepit, rickety, fossilized! Ponies like her were a blight on Equestria. I wanted to strap her to the operating table and slice her open. I'd go right through her sternum with a bone saw and no anesthesia, and her screams would make me laugh. I'd grip her rotting heart between my hooves and yank until I ripped it out. Her blood would spray across the walls and floor, and I would smash her heart against her head until her skull caved in.
At midnight, I filled a syringe. The air inside her room was stagnant, and the stench of her putrid body made my eyes water. I locked the door behind me. Her sheets rustled, and her voice squeaked, "Hmm? Oh, you again." I lifted her head to search for her jugular vein among her sagging folds of skin. "Can't you leave an old woman alone? I need my sleep, and my arthritis sure is whupping me tonight." I gleefully ignored her and began cleaning her skin with an antiseptic pad. "I'm going home tomorrow morning. Gonna strut right down Main Street without even using my walker. Maybe I'll even trot. That'll show my grandson. If he tries to bring me back here I'll fight him. I'll buck him like an apple tree. He needs to respect his elders instead of telling us what to do."
The needle caught the light of the moon and gleamed like a dagger. I sank it into her vein and eased the plunger down. The injection was slow because I had picked a needle so thin they would never notice the injection site. The hag, hardly noticing the prick, continued rambling. This was my favorite part of my work, and its leisurely pace increased my enjoyment. I was clearing dying trees from the orchard, so to speak. After I withdrew the needle, I stood back to watch. The hag's breaths grew shallow and quick. Her pupils dilated. She gaped at me and tried to speak again, but spasms closed her throat. Her limbs jerked, and her body went limp. Her throat rattled with her dying gasps. When she was still, I shut her eyes. What glorious justice!
Outside her room, the hospital smelled clean and fresh. I peeked in the pediatric ward again. All my dear foals were safely asleep. I smiled.
Decades from now, when I'm old, I'll confess everything I've done. They'll howl with fury and drag me to the public square. I'll smile, put my neck in the noose, and swing from the gallows cheerfully, because that will complete my work and make me my own last victim. But for now I have time enough. Every day, I make Ponyville a better place.
